Zero-Knowledge Proof

Believe it or not I got this far
believing everything.
Waged Pascal’s wager on every
little war. An insurance policy
for every last contingency.
What probabilities!
Those metastatic trees.
Those dendrites of decision.
Fanned out hands at
the progeny pavilion.
Rolling pin, de-risked dough.
The truth though
is beginning to bother me.
What is it and why
am I indifferent.
Like a goddamn dreidel.
Can’t read the glyphs
on my sides.
Can’t read faces for signs
of dread/delight.
I need you to tell me
is there at least one
true thing? No don’t
tell me what it is.
I don’t need that liability.
Just pick one true thing
and prove to me
that you know it.

Cut-out Speed

Freeze frame clip and
I’m just looping here.
Pinwheel, milky chime,
in the windfarm that is
your mind. The turbines
that keep nothing
like time. Other people
are out here too. But
they’re like tuning forks.
Shivering, struck, oddly
patient for song. Or sign?
I saw a bird fly out
of the scarecrow’s
shirt. I saw a thin horse
sway toward water.

You say say more
and I want to
say less but
nonetheless
say more.

And what does the wind
think of this? How
you’ve trapped us in this?
Of the falseness, of the never-no
roadside assistance. Of
the field and its questions.
What happens when
a ceiling fan falls. Does it
splinter or shatter?
More and more I think
this is what matters.
If I figure out the right
way to break maybe—
can I get out of here.